Who's Traitor
by musefatale
Summary: Snape/Draco. Severus Snape is running from the Dark Lord, and Draco is with him. The only way to save the boy’s life is to make it look like he was being held by force. Snape has no problem doing that. Written in 2007.


**Title:** Who's Traitor  
**Pairing:** Snape/Draco, Lucius/Draco  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** Sub!Draco, BDSM, Torture, Orgasm Denial, Incest  
**Summary: **Severus Snape is running from the Dark Lord, and Draco is with him. The only way to save the boy's life is to make it look like he was being held by force. Snape has no problem doing that.  
**Notes:** I hope I gave you what you wanted; I tried hard to fit everything in your request in, but could not quite get them all! Enjoy!

Who's Traitor

The first blow fell firmly against Draco's cheek with a dull "thwap". It stung, but he did not feel any bones break – yet. He did not have time to think beyond this as the firm, calloused hand rained down on his other cheek. He felt a faint snap this time, and sharp pain just under his eye. Within seconds, he could taste the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. He jerked against his restraints, trying to get out from under his captor. The man above grasped his pale throat with rough, calloused hands; not choking, but placing enough weight in his grasp that he could feel the pressure in his lips and had to think consciously about breathing. A pair of dry lips brushed against the tender, broken flesh of his cheek.

"I told you not to move."

Draco attempted to choke out a response, but could not get the words past the fist at his throat. The weight above him shifted to tighten his bonds. His fingertips were almost numb from the bonds and lack of steady blood-flow, and his legs pulled at an excruciatingly odd angle. The body moved again, crushing down upon him and forcing his legs ever farther apart. The calloused hand pushed past his hard cock, his balls encased in a thick leather cage, and through his red, lashed ass-cheeks to the so far maiden asshole that lay below.

Without any more warning than their mere presence at his opening, a finger thrust forward. Draco tried to cry out in pain, but was hampered by the hand still clenching his throat. His body tightened for a moment before the pain receded into a perverse almost-pleasure. His captor, however, refused to allow him anything that could be mistaken for pleasure, and pressed another long, thin finger in beside the first. Draco winced again, biting at his lower lip and trying to remain perfectly still. A third finger joined its companions. Draco's resolve was beginning to wear thin. He would have come just then, were it not for the damned contraption around his balls. It was agonizing – he loved it.

The fingers slipped out and his captor moved again, positioning himself at Draco's stretched ass, pausing for only a moment before thrusting his cock into the boy's ass. A muffled scream was all he could manage as his world went white for a moment. After time, his body relaxed, and the hand moved away from his throat. Were it not for the obstinate pounding of blood and ejaculate trying to break through the barrier of the cock-ring, the experience would have been pleasurable. The ache in his face and his eyes and his testicles was much greater than the ache of desire, want, and need coursing through the rest of his body. His hands itched to touch the body above him, and his caged cock twitched to be touched.

Just as Draco was getting used to the rhythm of thrusts and the carnal grunts, the body atop him moves, the thick cock pulling out of his ass. The body moved higher, with one leg on either side of Draco's long, thin torso. He watched the man run his hands along the length of his cock, anticipating. Just as he closed his eyes, he heard the silky voice once more.

"Open your mouth." He said.

Draco obliged.

The warm seed hit his tongue and trickled down to the back of his throat. Draco closed his mouth to swallow, cum falling on his lips and cheeks, mixing with blood and salty tears to run over his jaw-line and down his bruised neck. Draco felt a fist in his hair and opened his eyes. His head was jerked upwards so his lips met the still-dripping head of the man's cock.

"Lick." He commanded.

Draco stuck out the tip of his tongue and lapped at the head, clearing it of the last drops of cum. The salty, tangy taste stung the back of his dry throat and made his stomach clench.

The man moved away from Draco and began to untie the boy's restraints. He pulled Draco up from the bed and tied his hands behind his back. He pulled him to his feet and drug him to the doorway of the small, dirty cabin. He opened the door to the crisp night air. Taking Draco by the back of the neck, the man leaned down.

"Go to your father. Now."

"But…" Draco protested, glancing down at his throbbing cock.

"No, I want him to see that as well."

With that, he shoved Draco out the door and closed it behind him.

Draco knew how to get home from here, it was a long walk, but nothing compared to what he had just been through.

Severus Snape watched the boy stumble through the thick brush from the only window in the cabin. He felt no guilt for what had just transpired; knowing that, in all likelihood, he had just saved the boy's life. This would no doubt result in his eminent death, but that had been coming for months. In trying to save him from the Ministry, someone had let slip his pact with Dumbledore. This evidentially had led the Death Eaters and their illustrious leader to the conclusion that Snape had been working for the old man the entire time. Severus did not know all of the details, all he knew was that instead of running from the Ministry, he was now running from the Dark Lord, with Draco in tow. To his surprise, the boy did not kill him in his sleep that night, but instead made a confession that had been quite clear to him already: he was scared.

One could say that Draco's allegiances had changed, but one would be wrong. His allegiances were as they had always been, but instead of being afraid of his father, he was afraid for Snape. The only way Severus could safely send Draco back to his father was to make it look like he was being held against his will. Draco reluctantly agreed to return home, after days of coaxing. Snape was less than surprised to discover that it took less coercing to get him to agree to what had to be done before he sent him home…

Draco stumbled up the steps of Malfoy Manor – cold, bruised, and frightened, his hair matted to the side of his face. Before he could reach the door, it opened, the silhouette of his father stood in the doorway. Lucius rushed forward, gathered his son in his billowing robes, and ushered him inside, lest anyone see. There was no emotion in Lucius' face, no fear, no anger, no concern, no joy… nothing. He swiftly unbound his songs robes and then reached down to release the cock-ring. The release of pressure and the touch of his father's smooth hands let loose the aching orgasm that had been mounting for what could have been hours, spilling over his father's hands and onto the marble floor. Lucius looked at his son with a mixture of disgust and hatred, and wiped the cum off on his robes.

"You dishonor us." He said, sharply.

Draco almost winced at the sound of his father's voice, his gaze downcast and his body numb. He was exhausted, he wanted to collapse and Lucius' feet, he wanted the ache and pain to go away. He wanted his father to clean him up and comfort him, but Lucius was not capable of showing that kind of emotion. He suddenly felt very alone and very venerable. He raised his eyes to look at his father.

"I'm sorry." Draco said. "I tried…"

"Don't grovel, boy." He spat.

Draco swallowed hard, "Yes, sir."

Lucius' eyes traveled over his son's beaten body, carefully inspecting ever bruise and cut and welt. His face was hard. Suddenly, Lucius grabbed the back of his son's neck and pulled him violently forward. He pressed his lips to Draco's ear.

"Tell me son, did you enjoy it?"

"No, sir." Draco responded, his voice shaking as much as he was.

Lucius wrenched Draco's head to the side, inspecting the hand-shaped bruise on his son's pale skin. He ran his fingers over the fingers of the bruise. Draco flinched. Along his jaw-line was a cut in the shape of teeth. He ran his fingers along Draco's jaw and up his cheek to the wide cut under his eyes. Still slightly visible were the scars from the Sectumsempra he Potter had hit him with months before. He pushed his son's head to the other side, starting at the matted hair, blood, and cum on the other side of his neck. Lucius shoved Draco away from him and sneered.

"You disgust me. Go clean yourself up."

Draco nodded and moved slowly past his father down the long hallway to the staircase to the second floor, where his room was. His skin felt red-hot with shame.

Lucius watched his son walk away, a sadistic glee in the pit of his stomach. He smirked outwardly and strummed the snake's head on his cane.

Draco walked slowly through the manor towards his room, shame lying heavily across his features. He was grateful that his mother was not home, she had taken up residence at his aunt's home in the country when the Death Eaters had begun using Malfoy Manor as their second headquarters. He opened the door to his bedroom and walked through the darkness to the bathroom door on the other side of the room. Once inside, he drew a bath and lowered himself into the hot water, which stung at the open cuts and wounds across his body. He lowered himself further into the water so that only the tip of his nose stuck through the surface, allowing him to breathe.

He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, trying to wash away the ache in his body along with the dirt, blood, and cum smeared on his flesh. He did not even hear the door open.

Lucius stood in the doorway and watched his son lay in the faintly discolored water, appearing almost as if here were dead. Unlike any other father, this thought did not send any sort of pang through Lucius' heart, but it did send one through an organ predominantly lower. Lucius rolled up the sleeves on his crisp white shirt and walked over to the bath.

He plunged his hand into the water and grabbed a fistful of Draco's hair, pulling him out of the water by it. Draco sputtered and coughed up water, trying to catch his breath and avoid inhaling bath water. He stared wide-eyed at his father.

"Listen to me, boy…" Lucius began, "if you ever pull some shit like you just have, I will hand you over to the Dark Lord himself and let him have his way with you." He spat. "Do you understand me?"

Draco nodded weakly. Unsatisfied, Lucius plunged his son's head under water and held it there. Draco kicked and thrashed against his father, his nails boring into the skin of Lucius' wrist. After a few seconds, Lucius pulled Draco back out.

"I said, son, 'do you understand'?"

"Yes, sir." Draco said as firmly as he could, still hacking up water.

"Good." Lucius shoved Draco away, causing him to crash against the side of the tub.

Draco tried not to whimper as he cowered in the corner of the tub.

Lucius stood, and dried his hand off on a towel. Unrolling his sleeves, he spoke "When you are finished in here, and have made yourself presentable, you will come to my study to properly apologize for having, if only temporarily, soiled the Malfoy name." At that, he turned and left the room as silently as he has come in.

Draco stared at the closed door, shaking. He was used to his father acting in this manner, but that did not detract from his fear of that man, nor the nervousness he felt at the thought of his punishment. A caning would be too nice, he thought. That was what his father used for punishing less than acceptable grades and the occasional lost Quidditch match. This was something much worse.

He bathed as quickly as he could, knowing that it was not wise to keep his father waiting. He dried off and brushed his hair before moving back into his bedroom and getting dressed. Feeling nervous and shaking, he walked down the long hallway, at the end of which was his father's study. It was the best room in the house; it looked over the grounds of the Manor, the small lake and the Quidditch pitch he had built when Draco was a very young boy. Draco reached the door and knocked.

"Enter." His father's voice from within spoke.

Draco pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped inside the room. Lucius was sitting behind his desk, his hand folded over a crossed knee. He stared at Draco like a businessman preparing to make a deal. The look always made him flinch inwardly.

"Come here, Draco." Lucius commanded, standing from his desk.

Draco closed the door behind him as he walked towards his father's desk. Lucius came around the side of his desk, cane in hand. He beckoned Draco to the desk, leaning on his cane.

"Drop your trousers."

Draco heart fluttered, he was getting off easy, and he was only going to get a caning. To anyone else, this may still seem like a horrifying idea, but his father could, and had, done much worse. Draco approached the desk and unbuckled his trousers, pushing them down along with his boxer shorts.

"On the desk."

Draco obeyed, leaning on the desk. Lucius walked behind him and Draco heard the swish of robes and the sound of the cane raising and the crack of wood on his bare flesh. Draco did not flinch; he had trained himself over the years to remain silent and still.

After his father's assault was over, he stood still waiting for the command to rise and raise his trouser. It did not come, however. Instead, he heard the clinking of his father's cane against the marble floor and fabric rustling. Draco's heart started to pound. He felt two long-fingered hands grab his ass-cheeks and force them apart, then the head of his father's cock at his opening. Draco squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip preparing himself.

Lucius first thrust was excruciating, ripping at the already tender flesh. A hand came up to tangle in Draco's hair, pressing him flat against the desk. As he thrust into his son's ass, Lucius leaned down and whispered:

"You are mine. You have and always will be mine. Do not ever forget that, boy. You are nothing if you are not a Malfoy."

Lucius was claiming his territory, marking it as his own in the same way another had taken it away from him: by force. Draco braced himself against the desk and tried to take it all without noise, as he knew his father wanted. After a while, the pain had subsided. While he felt no pleasure, the feeling was tolerable now. The only thing he felt was the raging hatred he had for his father, for everything he stood for. Draco prayed that one day he would be the one to kill him.

Fin


End file.
